I loved her an age before I discovered, That she was an imaginary woman, Dancing in the background of my reality, Smiling in my dreams whenever I dreamt, Soothing my grief whenever I wept Stripping the passion from my fears, Tutoring me to endure crippled years, But I failed frequently to be tutored. Unable to understand, tortured and suffered, I became an old man with prisoned tears, Drawing her lovely face on decrepit trees, Waiting with loose fancies around a dream, Clung with love to images; those gleam, Breathing in my deep silence, a living beam, That keeps me warm in my dead reality, Now, I live with my faithful heart and ability, To collect her stories, images, smiles Silent words or those sounds like words, And my courage to tolerate imagining her, With bare feet, with a face with no lips, her blurred body enjoying beauty to the tips, As the paradise, in heaven, saved to me, Or above or seven heavens underneath, Here on earth in the past times and time leath, I remain faithful, being a man, to our secrecy I resume, I tell now, loving who doesn’t exist, I admit and cannot deny; it is hard to resist Feeding my descending with lovely plans of fancy.
That essence Those hands, that body that caresses who breastfeeds us that gives us life starting an eternal struggle who always leaves his teachings Their loves his consolations That essence that multiplies in the sister, in the aunt, in the
allow me this privilege of seeing you in , the unlit room in a chilly night, alone and guiltless, as night unmask your face, assumed Venus in the cowl shawl, splendor on the door it would admit, the dream of
Of all things sentimental. She came through the door wearing a suit of armor. The door closed behind her with a rattle and tick of swaying arms. With rust around her eyes she longed to be melted down. A drop
For ages, her life has been A journey of endless strife Most of the times unrecognised Generation after generation Beautiful as a part of nature itself In whose lap she is born and brought up She grows up to attain